


Because I'm Here

by Pandanator



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: But Connie is there for him, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, RvB Rare Pair Week, Suburban AU, Wash has a bad dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandanator/pseuds/Pandanator
Summary: She had long ago decided that when he woke her in the night, gaunt and looking like he’d just seen a ghost, that she would be there for him. Tonight would be no different.
Relationships: Agent Connecticut/Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18
Collections: Red vs. Blue Rare Pair Week





	Because I'm Here

Connie knew that sometimes the confusion could last for hours. It was not uncommon for the mismatched memories to strike him while he dreamed. He would see her face (no, not her face), he would see her hair (no, not her hair), her smile, hear her laugh, remember her scent (it’s that other woman he’s in love with). 

Connie flipped on the bedside lamp, sat up in bed and turned to face him. Wash’s chest rose and fell as he let out labored breaths and mumbled faintly to himself, eyes tightly shut. Military service often scarred in more ways than just physical, and the road to recovery was one that could sometimes feel unending. Project Freelancer had shattered his mind and she’d spent the last few years helping him pick up the pieces. She had long ago decided that when he woke her in the night, gaunt and looking like he’d just seen a ghost, that she would be there for him. Tonight would be no different.

She laid a hand on his arm, and he stirred under her gentle touch.

His blue eyes cracked open, and met her own. In them she could see a tremendous struggle. A struggle to remember who the woman with the brown, side-swept hair, laying in bed next to him was. Sometimes he couldn’t - it broke her heart when he’d suddenly stop crying and smile, as if witnessing a miracle, and whisper, “Allison?” There’d be more tears afterwards- 

Tonight though, when he looked at her, he remembered. “Connie,” he simply said, as if in answer to a question. His weary gaze shifted to the ceiling.

She offered him a soft smile. “Wash.” He needs her, right now - her and her reassurances. “Bad dream?” she asked, as though she didn’t already know the answer.

For a while, the room was silent but for the sound of their breathing, then he said, “I keep seeing her.” His voice was hoarse.

She moved herself closer to him and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. She could feel the frantic thumping of his heart as it tried desperately to escape its fleshy prison, and could only hope her presence would be enough to soothe it. “I know,” she said tenderly, wrapping an arm around his chest.

It had been years since Freelancer had been brought to justice. Years since she had freed Wash and the others from the clutches of the Director‘s sickness. Years since Epsilon’s implantation and subsequent removal. It had been years, and yet still the memories never ceased in their torment of him. Her eyes drifted shut - she had always found it difficult seeing Wash like this, with his foundations crumbling beneath him. 

He lifted her arm off him then, and shifted away. “You can go back to sleep,” he said, smiling wanly. “I’m... I’m okay.” He tried to sound confident even as his voice wavered. 

She wanted to laugh. Wash never was a very good liar, and she knew that when he did lie, he did it to convince himself more than others. He wasn’t okay, and anyone who cared to look could see it clearly. She knew just the thing.

Connie took his hand in hers. “Come on, Wash,” she said, getting up from the bed and gently pulling him along.“I’m thirsty.” He resisted for the briefest of moments, before giving in and letting her lead the way.

The floorboards creaked as she led him along through the darkened house, down the hall, to the kitchen. She flicked on the lights, temporarily blinding them. 

“You could have warned me, you know,” he said, rubbing at his eyes.

“Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly.

The tiled kitchen floor felt cold against her bare feet as she made her way over to the refrigerator, before catching a glance at the digital clock displayed on the stove - _2:43_. She stifled a yawn and opened the refrigerator, shivering slightly as the cold air escaped into the room, and found just what she was looking for. 

She poured two glasses for the both of them and placed them in the microwave to heat. 

Apart from the hum of the microwave and the occasional yawn from Wash, who was standing by the counter, they waited in silence. Connie was tired too, though she tried not to show it - she knew Wash would blame himself, and that was the last thing she needed right now.

At last, a loud beeping signals the timer has reached zero, and Connie opens the microwave door to retrieve her night-time solution.

* * *

Wash sipped his freshly prepared warm milk, and watched Connie as she sat opposite him at the dinner table, nursing her own glass, a small, tranquil smile on her face. “Thanks,” he murmured. She glanced up at him and gave a slight nod.

Wash wasn’t okay. The truth was that he had trouble keeping himself together on the best of days, and on the worst, he didn’t even know who himself was. He lived life as two men, and without Connie to keep him grounded, he was sure he’d have been torn apart by the swirling memories long ago. _She was so beautiful on that day with her golden hair tied up and the wind and-_

He shook his head, dispelling his thoughts before they could take hold, and took another sip of milk. He noticed Connie looking at him from across the table. He felt a pang of guilt when he noticed the dark circles around her eyes.

“Sorry for keeping you up,” he said quietly. _She was laughing in the grassy field when he-_

He tried to focus on his hands, resting on the table as they clenched into fists. _Laughing in the grassy field when-_ “It’s just that they can be so… real. Makes it hard to tell, sometimes.”

_She held her hand out to him. “Come on, Leonard,” she said, a radiant smile on her face. He reached out to take her hand-_

His milk had gone cold. Connie was still staring at him from across the table, an inscrutable expression on her face. “I’m not sure if I can keep this up,” his voice was barely audible, he wondered if she even heard him - did he want her to hear him? “I’ve just been thinking, what happens if…” he closed his eyes. “What happens if I can’t keep myself together? What happens to me?” he said, more to himself than to the woman sitting across from him.

Silence reigned - he supposed she hadn’t heard. He opened his eyes and peeked at her. Her messy side-swept hair fell across her face, covering one brown eye, while the other’s gaze was still firmly fixed on him. 

Wash wasn’t York, and so he usually had a hard time reading a room or understanding what others were feeling - and he’d always had an especially difficult time understanding Connie, who had always been so quiet and distant and - if he was being honest - pretty scary. Not scary in the Carolina kind of way, more like scary in the ‘I know something you don’t’ kind of way. (Looking back, maybe that’s what had drawn him to her, all those years ago. That, and maybe because of the feeling he’d get when her ever-present frown would soften and she’d grace him with one of her rare smiles.) Even now, years later, she could still occasionally throw him for a loop with all the little looks she’d shoot him.

Wash tried to focus on and steady his breathing, before being startled by the harsh sound of a chair scraping back against the wooden floor. He barely had enough time to process her moving towards him before she had her arms around his neck, squeezing hard, as if to remind him of her existence. Her familiar scent filled his nose.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said gently. “You’re _you_ , Wash, and you’re going to stay that way, because I’m here.” 

She dipped her head slightly so her hair fell across his face and her lips softly brushed against his. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She released him from her warm embrace, and ushered him out of his seat. When he looked in her eyes, he saw in them a quiet determination, the same that had liberated them all, once upon a time. He followed after her now, as he did then.

The night drew on, and eventually sleep would come for them. And instead of the Director’s machinations, Wash dreamed of a short woman with brown side-swept hair, standing apart from the crowd. He caught her eye and waved, she smiled, and held out her hand. He reached out, and took it. Suddenly everything felt as though it might be okay - he might be okay.

_because I’m here_

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it. My submission for Rare Pair Week 2020 and my first ever real attempt at fanfiction. Honestly, it was pretty fun/difficult to write, and any comments would be appreciated.


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